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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30045834">Paper stars | Bokuaka.</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ethereum/pseuds/Ethereum'>Ethereum</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 02:08:33</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,741</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30045834</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ethereum/pseuds/Ethereum</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Under the dance of the dead stars he gives his sighs to the crescent moon, because he wants to feel something other than pain, despair, and even sadness, seeking mercy, even if only a drop, could heal his sorrows. However, for the other, it's too late. He only looks up at the sky, without observing any stars that could carry his condemnations, and yet he continues to observe from the darkness the light that is moving away. </p><p>While one dreams of seeing the stars shine, the other is left with stardust in his soaked hands.</p><p>He always wondered why he had found him. </p><p>But he wasn't entirely sure if he'd stay by his side. </p><p>Perhaps the answer was hidden in his intertwined hands, along with the burnt feeling.</p><p>They were both broken in their own strange and twisted way, but Akaashi had resigned himself to dying, and Bokuto had struggled to find him among the ashes of his own hell.</p><p> </p><p>WARNING:<br/>-English is not my first language, Sorry for the spelling mistakes.<br/>-Story developed during the beginnings and rise of the Second World War.<br/>-There will be explicit scenes and sensitive topics. Therefore, there will be a TW at the beginning of the chapters<br/></p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>BokuAka</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Paper stars | Bokuaka.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Run away."</p><p>The voice was behind him and the remoteness of his words was remarkable. But there was no exact description for his location, this being a mystery in the dark; he only knew that his close presence became a dying echo that faded, as if he was moving away.</p><p>"I can't."</p><p>He can't, he doesn't want to, he could use thousands of synonyms for that, but the stark truth is that he doesn't know how to do it and his knowledge was more than limited.</p><p>"Why is that? "</p><p>Should there be one? Did he have to have a reason? He doesn't believe it, let alone want to find out, because he just wants to hide.</p><p>"I have nowhere to go."</p><p>A lie, a fallacy worthy of his life, but even with the force of disappointment, the truth of hiding among the cracks of time, where he struggles to leave, sooner or later.</p><p>"But you must run."</p><p>Maybe he should, but he was honestly too lost in that place to know where he was going. Breathe, calmly, trying to keep the silence that looms after words, not suffocates whether heart or soul.</p><p>"I'll stay here."</p><p>Feel the wind sinking into his skin, as if it were cold fingers that scratch the depth of his joints. It feels familiar, it feels painful, but at the same time, he knows it's inevitable. The fingers of the wind come down his arms, until he reaches his chest. In the dark, he doesn't know how long that's been going on.</p><p>But he has to calm down, it's just a memory.</p><p>"This place, will soon fade away."</p><p>He knows, he knows better than anyone. He knows for sure that he must flee, that he must leave and never return again, but he is chained to his own past and simply does not know what to do, because he has lived his whole life there, and has no idea how to get rid of that feeling. Fingers keep coming down, feel his legs shaking.</p><p>Sigh, it's just his imagination.</p><p>"Then I'll find it again."</p><p>He closes his eyes, wants to believe that everything in his dream, that nothing is real, but feels his heart accelerate, just as his body begins to tremble. It's winter. He tried to console himself, but it didn't help because the steps were beginning to approach.</p><p>The wood creaked at the pressure of another body and, as if it were the work of fate, the sounds were slow: one after the other, slowly, and tortuous. At the same time, the passage of the clock resonates, the seconds pass like the wind in spring, but to him, they become eternal in the midst of the silence of the pounding.</p><p>He wants you to leave. He embraced his own body, the bruises on his legs and arms were becoming more intense, begging for fate to bless him, that it was just a passing hallucination.</p><p>"Bokuto, you must escape."</p><p>It is at that moment that the aroma of alcohol comes from the door.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p>"Excuse me, but, all is well?" The question comes suddenly and it is at that moment that Bokuto thinks again; his body feels sore, heavy; but he does not know for sure where that questioning comes from.</p><p><br/>
He didn't look up, it wasn't necessary, nor did he have the strength to do so.</p><p><br/>
"Yes...everything is fine" he replied without encouragement. There were no more words in his mouth.</p><p><br/>
There were seconds of silence.</p><p><br/>
"I don't want to be nosy, but, your nose is bleeding." The sentence sounds more like a warning, but the tone that distant voice uses doesn't sound harsh or accurate. His hand traveled swiftly to his face, and it was at that moment that his fingers made contact with his skin, that Bokuto realized that blood was bathing his face. Small drops fell from his mouth and ended up sliding down his chin. For brief seconds, his tongue caught the metallic taste and it was then that he realized that he was not in a field of roses.</p><p><br/>
Had he been hallucinating? Maybe yes, maybe no. There was no way of knowing, because perhaps the fact of being hallucinating would be another false lie, but that was the least important thing to him, he did not want to find the reason he found himself distracted enough to fall down the stairs and end up with red hands.</p><p><br/>
Kuroo cocked his head. "What are you doing here, Bokuto? The lady is supposed to be teaching a lesson."</p><p><br/>
Most likely it was that he was thinking, with his mind elsewhere, distracted enough to escape the world, not looking at a fixed point, but at the same time without having anything specific in her awareness of him.</p><p><br/>
At the same time, while he was lying against the ground, the daze took its toll on him and his head began to suffer from severe pain. Hundreds throbbed for a few seconds, causing an unbearable whistle to seize his ears. He let out a low growl, as if that helped the pain dissipate.</p><p><br/>
"Bokuto?" Kuroo spoke again and it was at that moment that he could clearly hear his words, or at least, he could think of an answer seconds after he had heard it.</p><p><br/>
"Huh?" The murmur was the first thing that left his lips just before he could see her around him concisely. Kuroo was in front of him, crouched enough that his hair fell from the corners of his face.</p><p><br/>
"Hello, Earth calling a Bokuto?" Did you hit hard enough to kill your only neuron?" It took a few seconds before Bokuto was able to laugh.</p><p>"Were you born with one?" He replied with the intention of returning the joke to me. A loud laugh came from Kuroo's lips.</p><p><br/>
"I would like to believe so, but I don't think I have time to confirm it," he stressed, before extending his hand. "Everything is fine? Does your head hurt?" He questioned again and it was at that moment that Bokuto knew that he would need a good explanation.</p><p><br/>
"In perfect condition!" He took Kuroo's hand and with a great effort that he hid behind his laugh, he stood up and smiled like before. "it was just a silly fall, don't pay attention to it." </p><p><br/>
"But your nose is bleeding, are you sure?"</p><p><br/>
"Of course! I will not die from a small wound" and so it was, he would not die because his nose was practically broken, although he also did not know he would deal with the pain later.</p><p>"Well, I'll pretend to believe you." Kuroo's expression turns amused. "But, I still don't understand, what are you doing here? The young lady said there would be an essential lesson today."</p><p><br/>
Oh, yes, that was a slightly more fun story to tell.</p><p><br/>
Maybe because, in a way it was ironically unfair and absurd, but at the same time it was embarrassing enough that I didn't want to tell it at all; he remembered how, moments before, he had been sitting at his desk, writing down with his pencil the grammar exercises that were spread out across the board.</p><p><br/>
Yes, they were boring, monotonous, as if they were squares that did not yield to the straightness of their lines. But, at times, but at others, they were so creative and abstract that, even Bokuto himself, they were some way of engaging in the lesson and being amazed. Was it possible that just a few words conveyed so many emotions and colors together? Because, many times, when he read, the words together conveyed emotions or reactions, although sometimes it was even simpler: they made him think of a specific color and, as much as he wanted, he did not know how it worked, much less how it could. occur, but he did not care: it happened, it happened in his head and that was what mattered.</p><p><br/>
<em>The only thing that mattered.</em>
</p><p><br/>
His head wandered from side to side; he had managed to finish his obligations all week before and was proud of it. Why, if they were small? Perhaps because the smallest things in life are valued the most, as his mother had told him on some hot summer. But that was not what mattered, because he was strongly enchanted by the emotions that the words written on that old paper produced in him.He really enjoyed reading them. As if a void inside him was filled with warm sensations, which, unfortunately, would later vanish and, consequently, he would have to go back to look for another book that could replace that desert without an oasis.</p><p><br/>
Perhaps that is why he began to write with such emotion; he didn't know if what he was doing was right, but it wasn't like someone, at some point, was going to read that. Maybe maybe it's for the same reason, he started to take advantage of grammar classes enough to start showing a piece of his imagination. He finished all the duties just to merely focus on that. And she had finished it. his little accomplishment made him feel good about himself; he smiled a day before, seeing the lyrics, barely understandable, give some words that he considered valuable.</p><p><br/>
But, unfortunately, for her, it was not enough.</p><p><br/>
Most likely, for that very reason, he was greatly scared when he heard the teacher's scream, while he was sitting in a corner, waiting for the arrival of his other classmates.<br/>
Perhaps, from the beginning, he should have been silent.</p><p><br/>
He should always have been silent.</p><p><br/>
"Bokuto Kotarou" He heard the woman call him by his first name as all of his muscles tensed.</p><p><br/>
He knew in that moment, that something was wrong, because it was obvious, nothing, never, was really right.</p><p><br/>
He was silent because it was the only thing he could do to appease his anger, because it was the only thing he instinctively knew how to do out of fear when he couldn't defend himself.</p><p><br/>
He was silent, hoping for the best, but the best never came.</p><p><br/>
"Explain to me what this is," she spat out the words, his brow was so furrowed that the lines on his entire face were noticeable. That woman clenched her jaw so hard that she heard the gnashing of her teeth. "Explain to me right now what this is!" She snapped, and at that moment she raised his own notebook, pointing precisely to the page, where days ago she had asked them to write what her days were like.</p><p><br/>
At that moment he realized: he had not measured his words, he was unable to even remember what he had written.</p><p><br/>
In that instant he knew that he had to expect the worst.</p><p><br/>
"What are you not talking about? Don't you have respect for your elders? Answer me!" She slammed the table so hard the murmurs stopped, gazes froze, everything stopped, and the spotlights focused on him.</p><p><br/>
No. Not again. Why did he feel like he was missing air? He liked being the center of attention, but, he had never wanted to get it that way, why did he feel like his hands were sweating out of nowhere? Why did he feel the walls closing in on him?</p><p><br/>
"Miss Jones..." His voice trembled, he wanted to avoid it at all costs, but he just couldn't do anything. "Me…"</p><p>" What about you?!" She snapped again, as if she had been waiting for him to speak to vent every bit of his anger. "How do you have the courage to express yourself like that about someone ?!" Her questions about him quickly grow louder and more violent. "Your father is an honorable man! How dare you denigrate him like this ?!"</p><p><br/>
"I…" He felt fear creep up inside him, take over every limb of him. His fingers were cold, his chest felt broken, as if they were squeezing him and taking the air from him, as if he was slowly losing his own life in front of his eyes and the cause of that was nothing. more than fear.</p><p><br/>
"Do you know what a statement like this can cause?" She repeated each word, looking at him, taking advantage of the absence of everyone, taking advantage of the fact that he was defenseless. "Bokuto, you would ruin someone's life on a whim!" It was then that she opened the notebook, and pulled the corner of one of the pages. "It's always the same with you! Why are you lying about something so serious?"</p><p><br/>
"I…" He tried to justify himself, because it was his only option, but he clearly didn't have the chance, because again, another scream interrupted him again.</p><p><br/>
" Bokuto, that's enough." Clearly his words are rhetorical, but since the woman was screaming with all her might, Bokuto felt the need to give an answer.</p><p><br/>
He opened his mouth, but not a word came out of his throat. Instead, she kept talking. </p><p><br/>
"Do you mean what I think you mean? "She was challenging him, she was challenging him in such a chilling way that he was about to start backing away, trying to hide, but he remained motionless.  "What is it then?" She asks again, lowering his voice.</p><p><br/>
An overwhelming silence takes over the room. A silence so deep that he can hear his breathing, his heartbeat, he can see the looks out of the corner of her eye, and his ears hear the words that others are thinking.</p><p><br/>
"Miss Jones..." his voice cracks, he doesn't know what else to say because she simply has no idea how to defend herself, nor could she do anything.</p><p><br/>
"Bokuto, we will talk about this later and you will have a punishment; You can't spread such disgusting lies about someone, and more, about your father."</p><p><br/>
He feels paralyzed, he feels his gaze sink him in a hole with no way out, while his chest continues to beat uncontrollably, he wants to flee from there, he wants to escape, he wants to disappear. His emotions are a cluster, a cluster that he has no control, but that he cannot let out under any circumstances. He bites his tongue, digs his nails into his palms, hopes for the best, as if it were coming.</p><p><br/>
He knows that he must contain himself, that he must not let anything out of himself, he believes that everything will be fine, he believes that the situation will vanish, an overwhelming silence invades the room again; but he smiles, he smiles because he doesn't know what else to do, he smiles because he has no alternative, because nothing else would save him at that moment.</p><p><br/>
"Do you think your mother would like to see the whimsical and lying child you have become?" It was at that moment that, in the distance, Bokuto heard something break so clearly that his entire body began to ache. His heart sank to a point where his beats were so heavy that his chest was seized with increasing pain. But that wasn't what scared him.</p><p><br/>
He was terrified to hear that, each time, everything was further away, he no longer heard his own heartbeat, he no longer heard the screams, he no longer heard the wood creak under his feet. He no longer heard anything, nothing, as if everything was moving away, the sounds disappeared, while the world in front of his eyes was clouded.</p><p><br/>
But no, he couldn't cry, he couldn't let something out of him, he couldn't let something show itself, his eyelids burned, his face burned, his hands burned.</p><p><br/>
He saw how the teacher kept talking, but her words were already distant, he couldn't hear them anymore, he couldn't.</p><p><br/>
Until he saw how, under his hands, his little leaves broke into a thousand pieces; the paper shattered under his fingers, the words became silly, the sentences became fragments. He watched as they fell slowly to the ground.</p><p><br/>
What was that? What was that resonating?</p><p><br/>
"Go away, Bokuto. Today you should think about what you say about your father." She snapped, and it was then that he was left with no other choice.</p><p><br/>
It was the inside of him, collapsing.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>"Bokuto?" Kuroo called him back.</p><p><br/>
"Nothing, nothing!" Bokuto replied with tired joy, taking the suitcase from him again, and wiping her face with his sleeve."I must go faster today!" He forces himself to laugh, even though there was no reason.</p><p><br/>
"Oh, I understand," Kuroo replied, patting him on the back. "I'll give you my notes so you don't fail the exam. see you tomorrow!"</p><p><br/>
"See you!"</p><p><br/>
He waved his hand, watching Kuroo walk up the stairs as he left; For seconds, he just begged the lie to be believed.</p><p> </p><p>***</p><p>The cold hung over the streets of his precious Holland, as if it were a bad omen, a warning, a sign, whatever it was, that he warned that the storm would come; for seconds, he walked, walked slowly through the desolate streets while he felt the sky scream that something would happen. But that was the problem. That was the damn problem.<br/>
It had already happened, it had already happened. What else was supposed to come to complete the catastrophe?</p><p><br/>
He did not know, but if he had completely that under no reason should he say that things would not get worse, because they would and, as if the words were a small flame, the fire would spread so quickly that he himself would not have time to take one last look at paradise.</p><p><br/>
Bokuto felt every part of him heavy, aching, exhausted. His fingers were frozen, the wind was blowing, his hands were getting cold, and he had nowhere to take refuge, although, after all, who would accept it? Who would stay by his side to offer help?</p><p> <br/>
He had no choice but to keep moving forward.</p><p><br/>
His steps were slow, the silence in his mind was overwhelming, but he fought every second to keep it, not to think, not to think about what he wanted to avoid at all costs; he wanted to continue with a blank mind, with nothing in his consciousness.</p><p><br/>
But it was impossible, because again, his thoughts were so fast as to hit him with all the force that was possible; he had no choice but to try to suppress them, to ignore them, but he could still hear the echo of his murmurs. He could hear the edges of his words, as well as sense the edge of his essence.</p><p><br/>
He closed his eyes tightly, as if that was of some help, but there came a point where the screams in his head were so loud that he couldn't ignore them; The voices were so loud, he had to face them.</p><p><br/>
She was right; she that woman was absolutely right, she was not wrong in any word, because simply he always had to be wrong, because he would never have the truth, but it was useless to worry about that; yes, it was always him, always the one who never understood, the one who never did anything right, he who could never think for himself because it was simply a joke.</p><p><br/>
She was right, because he never had to hope or show a little of himself in the first place, even in a few paltry words; Why had he been so naive? What was he waiting for? What was he longing for? What will he change? No, it was completely impossible. Completely intangible.</p><p><br/>
A hysterical laugh rang out in the back of his mind, it was funny, it was ironic, it was funny; but it was also painful.</p><p><br/>
He laughed, he laughed loudly at that moment, he smiled widely as the thunder increased his strength and a few small drops fell, his smile was wide, so wide that he felt his cheeks burn, that the muscles of his he got burned.</p><p><br/>
Why was he smiling? Because he could never do anything else. He could never cry, he could never scream, he could never speak. But, if he smiled, if he smiled enough, then things would be fine. Because whenever someone smiles it must be fine, because whenever someone does not show another face, then he must be fine.</p><p><br/>
The rain started to fall, but it didn't matter, because nothing really mattered because everything would pass. So if he smiled, would things get better?</p><p><br/>
Bokuto stopped, the rain began to soak him, and it was then that he saw his face reflected in a puddle: he looked at his face, looked at his eyes, the bags that hovered under his orbs were wide , his skin was getting paler.</p><p><br/>
But he should smile. Again, he spread his cheeks again.</p><p><br/>
<em>Smile, smile, smile</em>. He repeated in his mind, completely desperate, but nothing came out. He didn't have the strength, he no longer had a way to escape. But if mother had told him to smile, why had he run out of strength?</p><p><br/>
He didn't know it, he didn't know it, but he felt his tear ducts sting, and it was then that he felt he would break down.</p><p><br/>
The heavy clouds cry freely over Holland; The drops fall, and as if they were pins, they pierce Bokuto's skin, and they burn, they burn as if they were a pure fire that burns his skin, and dances through his eyes.</p><p><br/>
Faced with despair, he has no choice but to run; run, perhaps, to get to his home and be able to rest, but he knows perfectly well that this will not happen; he knows better than anyone that nothing good awaits him and he only has to endure. Stand in the eye of the storm; Bokuto runs in the rain, because he does not find another way, he does not find what to do.</p><p><br/>
He is lost.</p><p><br/>
Bokuto runs, runs in the rain, trying to take shelter, but at the same time, he knows that he has nowhere to hide; fear rises in him, he rises to his head as before, and he feels that around him distort; a beep, again, invades his ears and it is then that he again hears the screams, the voices of his mind. He tries to find the voice that tells the truth, but none of them have a form to hold onto.</p><p><br/>
He knows perfectly well that he doesn't want to come home.</p><p><br/>
It is then that falls; the cold of the ground clings to her skin, as he slides across the concrete, and in that instant he feels the pain creeping into his hands, on his face, before he stops rolling on the ground. He is completely soaked, but he doesn't know if what he has on his face is water, or the blood that runs down his arms.</p><p><br/>
Finally, the impact stops; his head hurts, his eyes are closed, but his eyelids are pressed tightly, with fear, because he just doesn't want to open his eyes, because no one is going to be there to help him.</p><p><br/>
He does not know how much time passes, but if he knows that the rain continues to fall with overwhelming force, and the downpour is heard around him; For a few seconds, he wonders: What is on his face, are drops of water, or tears? He takes for granted that they are drops, but he knows deep down that he has nothing left to do but cry.<br/>
And he does.</p><p><br/>
He lets out a sob, lets out a cry; He doesn't know if it's because of the pain, or the frustration, but he lets a scream come out of his mouth, he lets a tear flow freely down his face, because the rain will wash it away in the same way. He wanted in the depths of his heart, to disappear in that moment, he wants everything around him to go away, go away and never return, as if he could go through the sky, to fly with the stars ; The sensation takes hold of him for seconds, he feels that he is flying, he feels that he has nothing to carry, the pain in his hands and face goes away momentarily, and he sighs.</p><p><br/>
Seconds go by, the forces are long gone, but even with that, he makes a pathetic attempt to get to his feet; The pins from the sky keep falling, hard, with vigor, the wind blows, and he must find the courage, somewhere, to stand up, but he is simply too lost to look for it.</p><p><br/>
But he heard a voice; a voice calling him; for seconds, he believed it was an echo of his mind, nothing more than a hallucination of pain.</p><p><br/>
But the voice sounds again.</p><p><br/>
Bokuto feels desperately lost, he doesn't know what to do.</p><p><br/>
"Hey," he hears him clearly once more.</p><p><br/>
<em>A hesitant call.</em>
</p><p><br/>
The world was cruel to mortals and he would surely never stop being so; the world was ruthless, malicious, yet ...</p><p><br/>
Nevertheless…</p><p><br/>
When he felt the raindrops stop on his face and, for brief moments, the impending cold seemed to be muffled. And the forces return to him, a little more, one by one, driven by the thread of curiosity.</p><p><br/>
The world was cruel, but ...</p><p><br/>
It was the first time he saw something other than his fears in the dark.</p><p><br/>
His gaze was dull, as was his entire being, but for some reason, among the gray of his aura, something seemed to glow mysteriously; his clothing was poor and worn, barely tanned by some colors that would soon be completely gone. His black hair fell down his forehead, as did some drops that slide down his face and, although he is finally not wearing any comforting face, his umbrella is leaning over his body, covering it.</p><p><br/>
And it is then that he recognizes it; yes, he had seen it before, however, his name was a mystery that would probably never be revealed.</p><p><br/>
And, if he was sincere, he did not expect to receive help from him.</p><p><br/>
A strange feeling invades him, but he does not move, because he does not know specifically what he should do; flee, that's what he thinks at first because he fears that the stranger was a bad person, another trick of destiny; he trembles for a few moments, but nothing happened.</p><p><br/>
But, he noticed his hand outstretched, soaked, suspended in the air, waiting; maybe it was his imagination, but he could only stare, still in pain. The smell of wet earth fills his nostrils, and for moments he feels something inside him move.</p><p><br/>
He does not know for sure if time in its very definition was a latent concept in his existence, nor does he know if that moment was really happening or if the truth was that so many nights had passed that the end had come.</p><p><br/>
He didn't know if that was really happening.</p><p><br/>
For moments, his hand wandered through the air, trying to find a place, but being unable to go to what fate put it; He was still scared, he kept feeling the pain spread throughout his body as well as the reminder that the future is uncertain.</p><p><br/>
But, he has no choice; he looks up again, and he sees that person's eyes again. Dull, as dead as a faded flower, but for some reason, there was something that made him perceive something.</p><p><br/>
For some reason, he felt that he was safe; just as if he had been running away from something that had haunted him. The shadow was behind him, but there was someone else on the road and that was enough to make him feel calmer.</p><p><br/>
Calm.</p><p><br/>
His hand wandered through the air again, until it came close to that of the stranger. A gloomy cold invades his bones, and it is then that the heat of the other palm makes contact with his, and for moments, the wind blows with enough force to make him sigh.</p><p><br/>
He doesn't know what will happen, but-</p><p><br/>
There were no buts, because at that moment he expected the worst of everything, he expected something bad to happen, he expected the voices to sound again and make him cry, he expected the fire to burn completely to ash, but, nothing happened.</p><p><br/>
He felt his hand being completely enveloped, the rain dripping off his fingers; He looked at the stranger again, before feeling his other hand grab his and try to help him.</p><p><br/>
Time returned to its wild course, before the fire was completely extinguished.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Note: Sorry if there are spelling mistakes. I will try to correct them later</p><p>Take care of yourselves, and thank you very much for reading this :D</p></blockquote></div></div>
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